"Business, you know, may bring you money, but friendship hardly ever does."

Emma

--

The ceremony was short and to the point, and Elizabeth found that the entire ordeal was much less trying with John's warm hand enfolding hers. When the minister pronounced them man and wife, she actually found herself smiling.

There was a brief kiss, and then they calmly walked out of the church arm in arm, where John helped her into the waiting carriage. With minimal fuss, they were on their way to Gateshire.

"So," John asked after a few contentedly silent moments. "How do you find married life the second time around?"

She pretended to consider this carefully. "Well, seeing as we've been married for an entire ten minutes now, I must say that marriage improves dramatically upon a second attempt. And how are you feeling about the entire nuptial experience?"

"Very well, thank you. I can't imagine why I never tried it before."

"Perhaps you lacked the proper inducement," Elizabeth teased.

He responded in kind, with an acknowledging smile. "Obviously, that must be it." After a moment, however, he sobered considerably. "Honestly, though. Do you have any regrets?"

Because she knew that he would appreciate an honest response more than a hasty one, Elizabeth took pause. "Really, I don't know what regrets a person can have in the first half hour of a marriage," she finally replied. "But I do not anticipate any distressing feelings of remorse, no."

"Well, that's something, I suppose," John admitted. "Although I doubt you anticipated your first husband choking to death on a muffin, either."

The silence that fell between them was immediate and heavy, and John looked rather pale. "Oh. I…well, forgive me. That was callous."

Elizabeth didn't say anything. She couldn't, really.

"Honestly, Elizabeth, I didn't mean it like…I was just jesting a little…completely inappropriate, I know…."

She found herself biting her bottom lip, uncertain of how long she could hold out.

When John reached for her hand in a pleading gesture, she couldn't help it. The laughter escaped full force, filling the cabin of the carriage. For a moment, John looked scared, then stunned, and finally, amused. "Why, you little…."

Elizabeth tried to sober herself, although the occasional giggle still escaped. "I'm sorry. It's just that it's really so absurd. I think I've been avoiding saying it aloud for fear that I'd burst into laughter someplace public."

Because there was no other response, John grinned. "I suppose that would have been quite the social scandal."

Seeing as she was now in a carriage riding to a new town with a new husband merely a month after her previous had passed away, the realization that she had, in fact, been avoiding social contempt prompted yet another bout of laughter from Elizabeth. John simply watched her enjoy herself, seemingly content to lean back and try not to be too jarred by the shaking of the carriage.

After a few more moments of silence, something obviously occurred to him. "I suppose I should tell you something," he said slowly. "I meant to mention it before, but it continually slipped my mind."

Considering the frenzied events of the past few weeks, Elizabeth could understand that. "All right."

"You know, of course, that my money is from investment and not inheritance. As such, there was no family estate, no ready and waiting base of operations. There was just me and a ridiculous amount of money."

She had no idea where he was going with this. "Are you trying to reaffirm that I married well? Because it's really rather unnecessary."

"No, no. I'm just telling you this, because about the time I was looking for proper housing, I was also beginning construction on the headquarters for Atlantis Trading and Shipping. As such, I decided on a whim just to combine the two. And things sort of…grew from there."

"Grew?"

"Yes. It ended up being a rather large structure, when all was said and done. Overlarge, some think. I rather like it, but then I suppose I would have to."

Honestly, she had no idea what he was trying to say. But then, as Elizabeth was quickly learning, that was often the case with John. "I think I'm missing your point."

He grimaced. "Just wait. You'll see for yourself."

It wasn't until nearly eight hours later, when they came to a stop overlooking Gateshire, that John's meaning became clear. Although he had tried to warn her about the size of their intended destination, staring down at it, Elizabeth wondered if any words could have done it justice.

Atlantis Trading and Shipping Company was not merely a building – it aspired to be a second town center. On one side, she could make out the hazy shapes of boating docks, anchoring a small fleet of streamlined ships. Nearer to the road, there were doors for what appeared to be an extensive stable and shipping area. Meanwhile, the East Wing was clearly the main house, being more familiar in architecture and style, and the West Wing seemed similar – some kind of extended staff quarters, perhaps. If all of that wasn't enough to attract attention, at the center of the entire structure towered a lighthouse.

Faced with the sight, Elizabeth found herself struck temporarily dumb.

--

Her silence was thoroughly nerve-wracking for John, who found himself studying the spectacle that was Atlantis through less enamored eyes. Whereas before, he had always viewed his home with nothing but satisfaction, he now found cause to critique it. He feared that it was too big –ostentatious, even. Perhaps it really was disrupting to the eye when taking in the general landscape of Gateshire. He had heard all these complaints before and had little trouble dismissing them. Somehow, he felt that if Elizabeth said them, they would cease being the irksome complaints of interfering neighbors and become true.

So when she finally exhaled a long, low breath, John found himself holding his own. Luckily, he didn't have to for very long.

"It's amazing," she said softly.

Relief flowed through him and he found himself grinning like the fool he undoubtedly was. "You think so?"

"I really do. It must have taken forever to build."

"Not particularly. It's remarkable what you can accomplish when money is no object."

Her responding smile was wry. "I wouldn't know."

"You will now," he pointed out easily. "Let us go. I find myself eager to be home."

Agreeably, she returned to the carriage and before long, they found themselves pulling into the stables of Atlantis. John barely had time to help Elizabeth out of the carriage before the inevitable crowd descended. John found himself trying to answer a dozen questions at once while getting hugs and giving orders and generally completely incapable of attending to his wife, who looked a little bemused at all the commotion.

After considerable effort, John managed to calm the majority of his staff, pushing through them to once again join Elizabeth, who was still waiting patiently by the carriage. "I guess that I was missed," he joked.

"Hardly," Cameron corrected from across the room with a teasing lilt in his voice. "It's just that you divvy the wages."

"Well, there is that," John conceded with a grin of his own. "Nevertheless, it's good to see all of you," he said to gathered crowd.

"How touching," Rodney remarked dryly, causing John's eyes to shift over to the sharp-tongued scientist.

"Not so much you, Rodney," John clarified.

"Yes, yes, I'm stung by your indifference," Rodney replied, rolling his eyes. "Can we get down to business already? As I recall, we sent you to town for two specific purposes, and while the correct permits have already arrived by post, I don't see any kind of diplomat accompanying you."

It was just like Rodney to not even notice Elizabeth's presence at John's side, and for some reason it rankled John even more than Rodney usually did, spurring him into a sharp verbal parry. "As usual, Rodney, you're exaggerating even the most simple of facts. First of all, you didn't send me anywhere – I'm the boss, remember?"

"You'll simply have to forgive me if my memory slips. Easy enough to do considering that you've been gone for two months." Rodney retorted.

"Well, excuse me for not following the demands of your rigid schedule and rather wanting to take my time and find the best person for the job!"

"For all the good it did you, obviously. After two months, where is your so-called perfect employee?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, she's right here!" John yelled, gesturing to Elizabeth, who he had a feeling was only barely managing not to burst into laughter at the whole spectacle.

In the silence that fell over the room after his proclamation, she was predictably the first person to recover. "Gentlemen, perhaps we should take this discussion to a more…private location?"

Rodney shook his head by way of response, and John watched as the shipwright's face progressively turned a brighter shade of red. "Who are you?" Rodney demanded in frustration.

Feeling an undeniable twinge of triumph, John delivered what was sure to be the piece of information to push Rodney straight over the edge of reason. "This is Elizabeth Sheppard. My wife."

--

"Wife?! WIFE?! We send you to find a diplomat and you come back with a wife?!" Dr. McKay yelled as soon as the conference room's doors were latched.

"It's hardly a scandalous concept, Rodney. People get married every day," John pointed out, still gloating over his temporary victory in a way that made Elizabeth roll her eyes.

"Yes, but that's not exactly my point, is it?" Dr. McKay retorted, rather pointedly avoiding glancing in her direction.

"Then please, enlighten us. What useless and no doubt small-minded stereotype are you trying to drive home?" John shot back.

This seemed to temporarily stop Dr. McKay's tirade, and he even had the grace to look sheepish for a moment. Unfortunately, it passed quickly. "It's just that you can't go to town on business and then decide to turn over a large portion of this company to a woman just because she's attractive."

Upon some reflection, Elizabeth decided that she had never been called pretty as a form of affront before. She wasn't at all certain she liked it. "I don't suppose I'm allowed to say anything in my defense?"

Dr. McKay glared at her. "Please, save me. I have no patience for women, seeing as they are taught to do nothing but dance and embroider cushions and bat their eyes in a coquettish manner. Unfortunately, John doesn't seem to share my common sense."

"To his merit, I assure you," Elizabeth scolded sharply, feeling more than a little tired of this unpleasant man. "Otherwise, he might not have noticed that besides dancing and batting my eyes, I can speak five languages, have extensive contacts in the political and business spheres, and possess the remarkable talent of ignoring men's often tactless and short-sighted precepts of what a woman should be. Oh, and I can also embroider, but in light of my other accomplishments, I suppose it's a fault you shall have to gather the grace to overlook."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could make out John grinning at her, with what seemed to be pride shining from his eyes. The expression bolstered her spirits, and somehow the whole situation was suddenly tinged with a touch of the ridiculous. "Now," she said, much calmer. "Could someone please tell me how things are faring now that we have the appropriate permits to undertake our first trading run?"

After a moment's hesitation, Dr. McKay returned to his previously strident tones. "Not well! At all! I've been trying to contact our dear Mr. Sheppard here for the past fortnight in an effort to tell him that a new, much more serious problem than mere sailing permits has come to my attention."

"Elaborate please, Rodney," John said, no longer amused at the way the conversation had turned.

"Oh, now you want the full story…"

"Rodney."

Temporarily chagrined, Dr. McKay proceeded to share the company's current troubles. "The port of Paris, where we had hoped to complete our first few trade expeditions, has declared that we will only be allowed to dock our ships there if we pay a small business tax so exorbitant that it would almost nullify our profits."

A serious problem, indeed, Elizabeth reflected. "This smells of the East India Trading Company."

"Are they so duplicitous?" John asked.

"You don't gain a veritable monopoly over British trade without having more than one distasteful card up your sleeve," Elizabeth pointed out, mulling over the problem. "Do we have a map of France nearby?"

A still skeptical Dr. McKay promptly furnished one, and with one finger, Elizabeth traced the watery route of the Seine River. "Ah, yes," she said thoughtfully, tapping a marked section of docks just north of the main port.

"Yes what?" Dr. McKay asked, intrigued seemingly despite himself.

Curbing the impulse to gloat, Elizabeth merely smiled. "See this section of docks just outside the city? They belong to one Monsieur Chirac, a French businessman of no small means and fortune with, conveniently, no ties to the East India Trading Company. They are notably shallower than the main city's docks, which is why no one has attempted to negotiate for their use. However, it is my understanding that this would not be a problem with our ships?"

Looking more than a little shocked, a dazed Dr. McKay replied with, "No, the puddle jumpers weigh considerably less than the average trading vessel, to promote easier maneuverability and quicker traveling times."

"Wonderful. Then I propose that I quickly compose a letter to Monsieur Chirac negotiating the use of these docks for say, a ten percent cut of all profits we make out of Paris?"

"Which would be brilliant if we could only get the letter to him in time to keep our schedule. As things are, it will take at least another week to receive his reply," Dr. McKay pointed out.

"I know London is not exactly around the corner, Dr. McKay, but I seriously doubt it would take one rider more than two nights to go there and back," Elizabeth said mildly.

"London? But I thought you said…"

"Monsieur Chirac is lately in London, overseeing the passing of some crucial Parliament decisions that would be sure to affect his interests here in England," Elizabeth explained easily.

"Monsieur…surely not the man who forced me to eat snails?" asked John, remembering the dinner party from weeks earlier.

Elizabeth laughed. Of course that would be what jogged John's memory. "The very same, I'm afraid. Is it too unforgivable a sin to consider entering into business with such a man?"

He laughed. "Very nearly. But go ahead and write your letter. Perhaps when the affirmative reply returns to us tomorrow, Rodney will have gathered himself enough to muster up an apology."

Sitting down at the nearby table and already beginning the correspondence, Elizabeth smiled back. "I will not hold my breath."